


Bittersweet

by tennou



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Banter, Bets & Wagers, Coffee Snobs, Fluff, Humor, Kissing, M/M, taste testing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-08-12 04:15:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7920145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tennou/pseuds/tennou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“All that stuff about ‘dark roast’ and ‘light roast’ and everything…I mean, let’s be real. Nobody can really tell the difference.”</p><p>“Excuse me?”</p><p>“Coffee is coffee, man,” Lance said with a shrug. “You drink it when you need to stay awake for a few more hours and past that, it’s for hipster white kids who want to feel artsy.”</p><p>Keith had never felt more insulted in his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bittersweet

**Author's Note:**

> Keith is a total coffee snob OK. ALSO this is my first time writing for Klance/Voltron in general, so I hope it turned out okay. Enjoy!

Keith liked coffee.

Alright, that was an understatement.

Keith was a coffee _connoisseur_. Yes, he worked at a pretentious, overpriced, urban coffee place in a gentrified area of downtown, and no, 75% of the clientele couldn’t tell a deep roast from a light (the _amateurs_ ) but Keith didn’t need an admiring audience to hone his craft. He just liked making good coffee, and his job—ideologically-opposed to the actual establishment as he may be—allowed him to do that (for minimum wage + benefits).

“Hey Keith,” a voice greeted from behind him. He felt a sturdy hand slap him on the back. “How’s everything going?”

“Fine,” Keith said, discreetly rubbing his shoulder which still stung from the force of Shiro’s slap. Shiro’s friendly gestures were always just a hair on the side of too rough, but it wasn’t as though Keith would ever admit to that. So he would endure. “What’s up?”

“We’re getting a new hire today—don’t make that face, you know school is back in session soon. We’re gonna need extra hands to handle the influx of students, at least for the first couple of weeks.” Shiro raised an eyebrow. “Or would you rather handle all those orders yourself? Would you really be physically capable of making seven pumpkin spice lattes in a row?”

Keith suppressed a shudder at the thought.

“I guess you’re right,” he agreed with a sigh. “I’m assuming you want me to train him?”

“Of course,” Shiro said with a wry smile. “Only our best barista could be trusted to train a total newbie.”

“Wait, what do you mean by ‘newbie’—”

Keith's question was cut off by a chipper, “Hiya, my name’s Lance, and I’m supposed to start working here today.”

Keith tore his eyes away from his manager to get a look at the new guy.

He wasn’t taller than Keith, so that was a plus. He had a goofy grin on his face and eyes that were so dark blue they almost looked black.

Not that Keith was looking hard enough to notice something like that; it was just a coincidence.

 _At least he’s not a greasy white guy with a garage band_ , Keith thought as he extended his hand to the young man.

“Hi. My name’s Keith.”

“Keith here is going to be training you. You’re in good hands.” Shiro slapped Keith on the shoulder again and Keith resisted the urge to wince in pain. “He’s our best barista.”

The new guy, Lance, took a hold of Keith’s hand and shook it with a little too much enthusiasm.

“Nice to meet you. I can’t wait to start.” He gave him a bright smile, and Keith blinked. The guy’s smile was so bright it felt like he was staring into the sun.

A cute sun.

_Oh god._

Keith pulled his hand away and cleared his throat.

“Yeah. Uh. Just slip on an apron and some gloves and we can get started.”

Once Lance had gotten his uniform on, Keith showed him the basics; how to work the machines, when to use the steamer, where the dairy-free milk was kept, etc. and everything was going fine. Lance seemed to be just the right combination of nice, witty, and charming (in his own goofy way) and Keith was even beginning to consider the possibility of asking him out for coffee sometime (from a different coffee place, obviously). It all would’ve been _fine_.

But then Keith began to explain the nuances of the coffee, how to ensure Lance wouldn’t burn a batch of it or keep a medium roast from going too dark.

Lance snorted.

Keith paused in his task and then arched an eyebrow at the new recruit, wondering if he’d imagined it.

“Is something funny?” he asked.

Lance shook his head, amusement still plain on his face.

“Don’t worry about it. Let’s just keep going.”

“No,” Keith said with a frown. He wasn’t the best at letting things go. “I want to know. What’s so funny?”

Lance shrugged. “All that stuff about ‘dark roast’ and ‘light roast’ and stuff…I mean, let’s be real. Nobody can _really_ tell the difference.”

“Excuse me?”

“Coffee is coffee, man,” Lance said with another shrug, this one somehow looking ten times douchier than the last one. “You drink it when you need to stay awake for a few more hours and past that, it’s for hipster white kids who want to feel artsy.”

Keith had never felt more insulted in his life.

“You can _absolutely_ tell the difference between different roasts,” Keith said, a scowl forming on his features. “Have you ever even tried discerning the difference before?”

“I mean. I like a Frappuccino just as much as the next guy.”

Keith wanted to scream.

“A Frappuccino?” he repeated. “You might as well just have a milkshake.”

“Mm.” Lance nodded. “Yeah. You’re right. I love milkshakes.”

Keith scoffed. “And for your information, coffee is _not_ just for hipster white kids. _I_ happen to like coffee.”

Lance cocked his head. “Really? Why?”

“Because it’s good? And I am an adult with sophisticated tastes.”

“Alright Gordon Ramsey.”

The bell on the door jingled and Lance glanced over to see a single white man walking in, a laptop bag slung over his shoulder. A sly smile began to spread across his face. Keith eyed him with suspicion.

“What is it?”

Lance nodded at the man with the horn-rimmed glasses.

“Wanna test your theory?”

“By my ‘theory’, are you referring to me saying that people _can_ tell the difference between coffee roasts?” Keith asked. He folded his arms across his chest. “Because yes, I’m willing to test that.”

Lance grinned, and Keith refused to admit that he thought it was cute.

He followed Lance to the front desk where the hipster guy was waiting.

“Hi!” Lance greeted with a bright smile. “My name is Lance. What can I get for you today?”

The man offered an awkward smile in response and ordered the coffee that was described as “a bold, smoky, and intense dark roast”.

Lance slid Keith a tiny slip of paper as he rang the man up.

_Give him the light roast ;p_

Keith rolled his eyes, and briefly wondered if the man would complain when he noticed that he hadn’t gotten what he’d asked for. But then again, Lance was the one that had rung him up, so maybe he’d just chew him out (Keith wouldn’t mind seeing that).

“Order ready for Jason,” Keith called out.

The man walked up and took his drink off the counter. He carried it to a nearby table and set it down as he took out his laptop and work materials. Keith and Lance watched him with rapt attention.

“Take a sip already, asshole,” Lance muttered, and Keith had to suppress a snort.

And then, finally, the moment of truth arrived.

The man paused in his work, wrapped a hand around his cup, lifted it to his lips, and took a sip.

Keith braced himself for the man’s inevitable displeasure…but it never came. He simply placed it back on the table and continued to work, unaware that he’d been deceived.

“What did I tell you?” Lance asked, his tone triumphant. “Coffee is coffee.”

Keith narrowed his eyes. “This doesn’t prove anything. Have you never taken a statistics class? One person is not an accurate sample size. He could’ve been an outlier, or something.”

Lance arched an eyebrow.

“Alright. Every experiment should be replicated, right? Let’s do it again.”

They spent the rest of the day switching out random drinks for different roasts, and all the while Keith kept waiting for somebody, _anybody_ , to catch on, but no one ever said a thing. Didn’t even so much as make a face at the taste.

“They might’ve just been too shy to say anything,” Keith suggested as they cleaned up before closing, but even he knew he was grasping at straws.

Lance knew it too, and he rolled his eyes. “You know I’m right. Sorry man. Coffee is the same.”

“Good work today, guys,” Shiro said as breezed past them. “Keith, do you think you could close up tonight? I, uh, have some prior engagements.”

Keith arched an eyebrow.

“I…have a date.”

“Just give me the keys.”

“Thank you!” Shiro tossed Keith the keys and with a jingle of the front door’s bell, he was gone.

“Well,” Lance said, still staring at the closed door. “I guess we’re finally alone. You know what that means?” Lance asked, looking at Keith with a growing smirk on his face.

Keith continued wiping down the counters but he felt his cheeks warm at the implication of the statement.  

No, Lance couldn’t possibly mean anything by that. He couldn’t.

But Keith had to admit, they _did_ have some kind of chemistry when they argued. And their banter had been borderline flirty all day…

Keith’s mouth felt dry as he asked, “What?”

Lance’s smirk was an outright grin. “We can test out how accurate your taste buds _really_ are at picking up on different coffee roasts!”

“ _That’s_ what you wanted to do?”

Lance stuck his mop back into the bucket and placed his hands on his hips. “Hell yeah! This’ll be the ultimate test. C’mon.”

Keith knew he should probably say no. Shiro had given him the responsibility of cleaning and locking up, and he should do that as soon as possible.

…But he also really wanted to set Lance straight on this whole coffee issue. And he could always clean up afterward.

“Alright,” Keith said with a smile. “Let’s do it.”

Lance made him wear a rag around his eyes as a makeshift-blindfold before he went to pour out the different coffee roasts.

Keith drummed his fingers against the countertop as he waited. He could still hear Lance shuffling clumsily around the kitchen as he got the test drinks, and he couldn’t help but smile.

“Why are you smiling like that to yourself?” Lance asked as he set down the mystery cups of coffee in front of him. “It’s creepy.”

“I was just thinking how funny it’s gonna be when I prove your ass wrong,” Keith replied with a grin. He heard Lance huff.

“Alright Coffee Boy,” Lance said in a way that implied that he clearly thought ‘Coffee Boy’ was a clever nickname, “Let’s see how good you really are.”

Lance pushed a cup into Keith’s hand, and Keith tried to ignore the tingling feeling he felt in his hand when their fingers brushed.

Keith took a sip.

Smooth and sweet, nutty and mellow.

“Medium roast,” Keith stated.

Lance pushed another cup into his hands. This time it felt like his fingers lingered longer, but Keith might have just been projecting. He took another sip.

Lively. Floral. Fruity.

“Light roast.”

Lance handed him a third cup, and Keith definitely _wasn’t_ imagining the touches this time, right? Lance’s hands were definitely lingering near his.

But then they were gone again, and Keith brought the final cup to his lips.

Huh.

It was…rich. Intense. But it also had hints of something lighter. A more crisp taste.

Medium again? No, they didn’t have a medium roast as rich as this.

“Stumped?” he heard Lance ask, smugness in his tone, but Keith refused to give this up.

“No, just give me a minute.”

He took another sip, letting the hot liquid slide over his tongue, picking up the different notes of the drink.

“Did you…did you mix light and dark roast together?” he asked.

Lance was silent, so Keith pulled the rag off his eyes. Lance was staring back at him, mouth agape.

“I can’t believe you actually got that,” Lance said in disbelief. “I was gonna give it to you after the first two, to be honest. The last one was just a joke. But you still got it.” Lance shook his head, a smile on his face. “You’re good, Keith. Really good.”

Keith returned the smile, although his was a bit more cocky.

“So you admit I’m right, then?” he asked. “Coffee is _not_ all the same?”

Lance sighed. “I guess,” he replied. “But maybe you’re just a special case. Everyone who came in today didn’t notice a thing.”

Keith cocked his head.

“Let’s do one more test, then,” he said, standing up from his chair. “Take a seat, Lance.”

Lance frowned but allowed Keith to push him into the seat.

“Are you going to make me do the taste test?” Lance asked when Keith wrapped the rag around his eyes.

“Yup.”

“But I don’t even like coffee!”

“I know. This is me trying to prove that anyone can have a sophisticated coffee palate, if they try.”

“Seems pointless,” Lance mumbled, but didn’t protest any further than that.

Keith poured out a few more cups of the different kinds of roasts and brought them back to the counter. He pulled up a chair so that he was right in front of Lance.

“Alright, I’ll teach you the basics,” Keith said, bringing a cup up to Lance’s lips. “Drink.”

It was hard to tell in the dim light of the coffee shop, but it seemed like Lance’s cheeks flushed darker as he took a drink from Keith’s hands.

“How’s it taste?” Keith asked, speaking softer now that he was right in front of Lance.

“Bitter,” Lance said, making a face. Keith suppressed a laugh.

“Yes, but is there anything else to the bitterness? Describe it to me.”

“Um.” He scrunched up his nose. “It’s… _really_ bitter.”

Keith rolled his eyes, but he felt a traitorous smile pulling at his lips.

“Lance.”

Lance sighed. “Let me taste it again.”

Keith tipped the cup over once more and watched Lance make a face at the taste again.

“Alright, once you get past the bitterness…it tastes…kind of…like caramel, almost? Um…like really faintly, though. It’s more…mellow.”

Keith smiled.

“That’s a medium roast,” Keith said. “That’s how it’s usually described. Nutty and smooth, but still has a little edge of acidity.”

“I’m never going to remember this.”

“I’m ignoring that.” Keith set down the first cup and picked up another. “Alright, open your mouth,” he said.

Lance’s cheeks warmed up considerably when he said that, but he complied and parted his lips to drink.

“Bitter.”

“Lance.”

Lance grinned. “Alright, it’s…Okay it’s definitely bitter, but…it has more…depth to it? Like. Its really deep…”

Keith couldn’t quite control the snort that followed.

“Don’t laugh at me! I’m trying, here.”

“Uh huh. Go on.”

“It’s smoky. And really rich.”

Keith nodded and pulled the cup back. “Dark roast.”

Lance ran his tongue over his lips and Keith followed the movement with his eyes.  

“I think I’m getting the hang of this,” Lance said, his voice a little quieter.

“I think so too,” Keith said, his own voice dropping in volume. He felt himself leaning in. “Do you want the next one?”

“Yeah,” Lance said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Keith placed a finger beneath Lance’s chin and tipped his head up. His thumb rested on his bottom lip.

Lance was almost holding his breath.

Keith closed the distance between them and pressed a soft kiss to Lance’s waiting lips.

“Was…was that okay?” Keith asked when he pulled away. What if he’d been reading the signals wrong? What if Lance didn’t even _like_ guys—

Lance licked his lips.

“Bitter,” he announced with a barely-concealed smile. “Very bitter.”

Keith blinked.

“I hate you so much.”

And then he pulled the rag off Lance’s eyes and pulled him back in for a real kiss. He felt Lance’s mouth move against his and his hand entangle itself in his hair, pulling it out of the ponytail it had been in all day

“Open your mouth,” Keith whispered for the second time that night, and Lance complied with a quiet moan.

The kiss _was_ bitter. They’d both had a substantial amount of coffee leading up to this, so it was understandable.

But Keith wouldn’t have had it any other way.

“Well,” Lance said when they finally broke apart. He was still breathing a little heavy, and Keith felt a flush of something like pride when he thought about the fact that _he_ had made him sound like that.

“What?” Keith asked, as he hopped off the chair and began putting everything back in its original place again.

Lance leaned an arm against the counter with a grin. “I guess that kiss was kind of like your reward for winning, huh?”

“So you’re admitting I won?”

Lance blinked at that, obviously not having thought it through.

“Wait—”

“Oh, before I forget,” Keith said, smoothly cutting off whatever argument Lance had been about to make, “I wanted to ask you something.”

“What?” Lance asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Keith grinned. He’d been working on this one all day.

“Wanna get some coffee together sometime?”

Lance scrunched his nose. “I cannot believe you just said that.”

“Just answer the question, Lance.”

“As long as I can get a Frappuccino.”

“Lance, I _swear_ —”

“Milkshakes will always be better than coffee Keith. I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Forget it. I don’t want to get coffee with you.”

“Keith!”

“You have no taste.”

Lance raised an eyebrow, looking Keith up and down. “I mean, I obviously have _some_ taste.”

“…Alright you’re back on.”

**Author's Note:**

> I love my pure boys :') I hope you liked the fic! Kudos or comments if you did would be amazing. You can also always hit me up at my tumblr [starfudge](http://starfudge.tumblr.com/)! Thank you for reading!


End file.
